Never Again
by The-Unknown-Artist
Summary: "Was it worth it? Loving someone, I mean."..."No. "..."Do you think you ever will again?"..."No."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So this was a 5 hour long RP done on Omegle. Half of it's content is in text form and the other half is paragraphs. I really do recomend you read through the text even if it's kind of long. My partner is on as well! Her user is __**CharmsLithe**__. Go check her out._

**Never again**

Who was your first love? -SH

Is this a serious question? -JW

Why wouldn't it be? -SH

It seems a bit strange that Mr. High-functioning-sociopath wants to know about my lovelife? -JW

I'm asking about your first love. Good to know you believe that. -SH

Her name was Amelia. Short light brown hair, freckles. I was completely infatuated with her. I think I was 5, she was 7. It was a bit of a forbidden romance. -JW

Ha. And you loved her? That young? -SH

It sounds rather sweet. -SH

She kicked dirt in my face on the playground -JW

It was love at first sight -JW

I'm so sorry. -SH

So why did you want to know anyway? -JW

Because I'm interested. Who was your first proper adult love? -SH

Uh, love is a weird thing Sherlock. There are lots of layers to it. If you're asking who I was first in love with, then I'd have to say I haven't got there yet. -JW

Late bloomer I suppose -JW

Very late. You're rather old for that. -SH

Hey shut up! I've still got some fire in me. -JW

I'm rather sure you do. -SH

You're still old for never having been in love before. -SH

I guess I just don't want to half-ass it y'know? If I'm going to fall in love, I want it to be with the right person. Someone that I know I can trust. -JW

Sounds a bit pathetic now that I'm reading it back...-JW

I wasn't aware you could decide. -SH

Well, you don't...but you do. I just haven't met anyone important enough to love yet I guess -JW

I didn't get to. -SH

You were in love with someone? Why do I find that hard to believe? -JW

I don't know. You know little about me, I suppose you should simply believe what I tell you. -SH

I think I know a lot more about you then you choose to show anyone else. I believe you, don't worry. Now you've got to tell me who it was. -JW

Not Irene, right? -JW

No. His name was Victor. It was a long time ago. -SH

But, I don't have to tell you anything. -SH

I guess you don't. -JW

We were together for 6 years or so. -SH

That's a long time, Sherlock. I know it's not any of my business but, was it worth it? Loving someone, I mean. -JW

No. -SH

Do you think you ever will again? -JW

No. -SH

Right, of course. -JW

You know...it makes no sense to give up just because of one bloke. -JW

He died. -SH

Oh. -JW

God, I'm sorry -JW

It certainly wasn't your fault. -SH

I won't make you talk about it anymore. -JW

It was a very long time ago. I was young, stupid, and in love. I don't want to be in that position again. -SH

I'm all right. -SH

Well, fortunately now you're old, brilliant, and resentful of all of human kind. You must be ecstatic. -JW

Sorry, trying to lighten the mood- JW

It's all right, John. And I'm only...in my mid thirties, aren't I? Halfway to old. -SH

Older, would be a better word I guess. -JW

Mycroft says I'm 36. That means it's been a decade. -SH

Did you seriously not remember how old you were? -JW

Useless information. -SH

You're an idiot, you know that? -JW

But you're my idiot -JW

I don't belong to you, tosser. -SH

Oh really? I happen to feed you, stitch you up when you're injured, keep you from getting yourself killed, and all in all keep you alive. -JW

You don't feed me. You cook for me. There's a difference. I'm not a child nor am I incapacitated. -SH

You might as well be a hyperactive puppy with cheek bones and no common sense -JW

Puppy? I'm more of a cat if I'm any kind of creature. I do not thrill upon your arrival. -SH

You're right, cats have a tendency to sulk and do absolutely nothing all day. -JW

They're also much sexier. -SH

Ha, sorry, I thought that was vital to lighten the mood. -SH

Getting a bit cocky are we? -JW

I was born with one, yes. -SH

Booze tonight, then? -SH

Sounds delightful. I'll pick some up on my way home. -JW


	2. Chapter 2

He was very clever. He read micro expressions, like a human lie detector. -SH

Quoting my blog again are you? Give me a break, I was a soldier, not a literature major. -JW

I was talking about Victor. It's actually an accurate statement when applied to him. -SH

Was he like you? -JW

As I said, he read micro expressions. He didn't use deduction. Not until I taught him, anyway. And he taught me some of his trade. -SH

You two sound like you were good pair. I bet you both caused massive havoc in all of London. -JW

He was significantly better with people. -SH

I'd hope so. You think I've taught you at least a little bit of my own trade? Being better with people that is? -JW

I'd rather learn medicine. -SH

I mean I'm the king of charisma but compared to you... -JW

Yeah, I would too. Oh hey and I did! -JW

You did study medicine, but you've taught me little I didn't already know. -SH

And you're rather charming in your own right. That's not easy to sincerely recreate. -SH

You flatter me, Sherlock Holmes. -JW

Not flattery. You only ever use it to pull. -SH

You: Me*

If I needed to pull, I'd certainly ask for your assistance. -SH

I'm glad you find me useful for something. -JW

Well, no, it's rather useless to me. -SH

Ah, great -JW

I've never needed to pull a woman at a bar. -SH

Not your area right? -JW

Women? I don't have an issue with women. -SH

Why do you insist on scaring them away every time I bring one to the flat then? -JW

Oh, your women. They're dull. Go to their homes. I don't want to listen to you shagging them. -SH

Yeah, I don't think you'll have to worry about that. Think I'm done dating for a while -JW

I suppose we're in the same boat, then. See? It's not worth it. -SH

I'd rather be alone than vomit from loneliness and heroin withdrawal. -SH

I guess I could always just wank in the shower if I need to. -JW

Why the shower specifically? -SH

Water drowns out noises. More privacy. -JW

You don't have any privacy in the flat. -SH

Then again, privacy doesn't exist while living with you -JW

Well we agree on something -JW

We agree on more than one thing. You could also just shut the hell up when you wank. -SH

Easier said then done. -JW

Does it bother you? -JW

I don't really care, no. -SH

Men moaning has never been a cause for alarm in my life. -SH

Good. I can just wank in the living room then, since privacy doesn't exist. -JW

If you want me to make tea while you masturbate, by all means. -SH

We're both pretty fucked up, huh? -JW

I don't even know how we got into this -JW

We're merely jesting. I would be rather off put if I walked into the living room and found you with your cock in hand. -SH

Ha, would that surprise you? I don't think I've ever been able to catch you by surprise. You predict every thing I do -JW

If you weren't moaning, I would be very are more pleasant ways to surprise me. -SH

Are there now? Do elaborate. -JW

Yes, perhaps with a bit of cake or a puppy. -SH

I thought you were a cat person. -JW

They're more sexy, remember? -JW

Dogs are more obedient. I'm more like a cat. -SH

Yes, I am rather sexy. -SH

Apparently. -SH

I've heard people calling me your dog a bit more then necessary. You can have me, pets are expensive anyway. -JW

Are you going to snuggle into my lap? Puppies are much cuter. -SH

Sherlock Holmes, I'm hurt. -JW

Puppies can't shoot people though -JW

Or pay rent -JW

They have rather nasty teeth when they're adults. -SH

That's fair enough. I could always prostitute myself. -SH

No. Not funny. -JW

Is it not? -SH

No, it's not. -JW

You complain what idiot people inhabit London all the time. You can barely tolerate their talking, how could you live to have then /touch/ you? -JW

I don't have an issue with being touched. They'd be paying me to provide them a service. -SH

Anyway, I have no intention of becoming a prostitute. -SH

No, I'm not comfortable talking about this, and you shouldn't be either. -JW

You better not -JW

You're very protective over this. -SH

I'm very protective over /you/. -JW

I don't want anyone doing that to you. -JW

Having sex with me? -SH

You're a bit late. -SH

No no, I mean like...just having you and then throwing you away. Like a tissue. You don't deserve that. You deserve to be cherished. -JW

How sweet. They wouldn't be 'throwing me away'. If they tried to take me for longer than allotted, that would be rape and rather irritating. -SH

I'm /really/ not comfortable talking about that either -JW

Interesting. I don't see why. -SH

People can't just...I would kill them, you know that right? You are very special to me, Sherlock. I would /kill/ whoever hurt you. -JW

Oh fuck, look what you've done to me. I've become homicidal. -JW

They wouldn't be hurting me. I would be consenting. Now that it's been legalized, I could refuse clients. It wouldn't be very distressing. -SH

Ha, it's interesting you're so protective over my sex. -SH

It's not just your sex, Sherlock. It's /you/. I can't have anyone damaging you. They wouldn't care about you like I do. They'd just see you as a good fuck and I can't have that. -JW

Fuck, I'm shaking just talking about this -JW

That's very disconcerting. I don't understand. -SH

What don't you understand? -JW

Why you're so...protective of me at all. I'm already damaged. I'm not some pristine ballerina or something. -SH

It's complicated. -JW

I'm very clever. Explain. -SH

I don't want anyone touching you but me. -JW

Other people touch me often. -SH

Not like that, I mean...I don't want anyone getting close to you but me, because only I know how to protect you. -JW

Hm. I see. Are you not distressed by the fact that I had a partner for a very long time? Who touched and protected me? -SH

That was back then. Before I knew you. And honestly, I'm glad that he could be there for you back then, when I wasn't there. -JW

And what if I've been close to people without your awareness? -SH

Now or then? -JW

Around now. -SH

Then no, I wouldn't like that very much. -JW

Ah. Well, then, no need to discuss it. -SH

Wait, who have you been seeing? -JW

I'm not seeing anyone. -SH

You just said...god I sound like some possessive boyfriend. -JW

You do sound like a possessive boyfriend. -SH

Look, you can't just beat around the bush like that. -JW

I had sex with someone. It's not really your business -SH

Maybe you're right. -JW

Just...was it like a one night stand thing or...-JW

No, nevermind. -JW

I don't want to know -JW

No, you don't. It had been a very long time. -SH

Think you're going to see them again? -JW

No, I doubt I will see her again. -SH

It was just to satisfy a need. -SH

Right, okay -JW

Does this bother you? -SH

I don't even know anymore.-JW

Hey, do you mind if I stay at Harry's for a bit? -JW

Why are you doing that? -SH

Just need some time away, that's all -JW

Things have come up that I'm not so sure about. I just need to sort them out. -JW

What's come up? -SH

You don't want me to be with anyone else, and you don't want me? -SH

I never said that -JW

It doesn't matter okay? -JW

You do want me? -SH

I'll be back in a week or something -JW

I don't want to be alone tonight. -SH

I'll stop by to get my toothbrush and shit- JW

Don't starve yourself okay? -JW

John, please don't leave me alone. -SH

I don't want you to hate me. -JW

I'll hate you if you leave me alone tonight. -SH

I don't want to be kicked out either -JW

If I stay, what would you do? -JW

Probably get drunk and tell you about Victor. -SH

Oh, lovely -JW

I'll be much worse if I'm alone. -SH

You wouldn't do anything stupid would you? -JW

I can't promise anything. -SH

Fuck Sherlock, you know that means I /have/ to stay. -JW

Whether I want to or not. -JW

I am begging you not to leave me alone. What do you think? -SH

You're going to leave me on the ten year anniversary of his death. And you expect me to be all right? -SH

You're kidding.. it's today...Fuck. I'll be right home. -JW

I /told/ you it's today. -SH

I don't remember that. -JW

Because you were too distracted by what I do with my cock. -SH

Just don't do anything until I get there. -JW

I'm fine. -SH

What on earth am I going to do with you? -JW

Get me booze and stop being ridiculous. -SH

I did, I did. Quit your bitching -JW

Stranger: You first. -SH

I'm /allowed/ to bitch. I share a flat with a psychopath. -JW

Right. -SH

High functioning sociopath, sorry- JW

I'm not either. -SH

You still don't know anything about me. -SH

That's because you don't tell me shit. -JW

You should pay attention. Haven't I told you enough tonight? -SH

Guess you're right, as always. -JW

I'm still a sociopath to you. After all this. -SH

Yeah yeah, I'm coming in -JW


	3. Chapter 3

John shoves his mobile into his pocket and marches up the steps to 221B. He must've spent 90% of his time at the surgery texting this lunatic. Sherlock is the only man on earth that could get John to feel wonderfully giddy, unbearably angry, woefully rejected, and mind boggling stupid all in under an hour. He pushes open the door and brings a hand to his temple. Headache, a fucking bad one at that. Must be from the mood swings.

"If you're not dead, say so." He calls.

Sherlock glances up, settled on the sofa, his legs crossed. On the floor by his ankle is an empty bottle of vodka. He clutches a glass and stares forward at the dining table, where sits the skull. Adjusting and frowning, he takes another sip of the spirit.

"See you started without me." John says, dropping a six-pack on the counter. After opening his own can, he sits in his chair and takes a swing. He's going to want to be drunk for this. Sherlock finishes his glass in one go, hardly showing any sense that he'd just drunk vodka straight. His trembling hands reach forward to take the skull and settle it in his lap,  
"This was what he gave me a year before he died, for my birthday. It had belonged to a woman called Mary," he says, lifting it with one hand,  
"Or, that's what the previous owner told him. Can hardly tell the difference between male and female skulls. He did a reconstruction of her face, based on her skull," he glances at John, "She was rather beautiful."

The bitterness John felt before starts to turn to guilt when Sherlock mentions his dead lover again. He sighs and takes another drink.

"He must've been young. How did he die?"

"He was shot," Sherlock says, hands clasped over the skull, "He was twenty seven."

"Did you solve mysteries with him too?" John asked. That would make sense, considering all of the near death experiences him and Sherlock had been through.

"Yes, he was indispensable to me," he says clearing his throat and frowning, "Well, I didn't really survive without him."

"Do you still miss him?" The other found himself asking. Though he honestly didn't want to know.

"Of course I fucking do," He says softly, pulling the skull to his stomach and bending over it, "But I realize that I can never have him back. He is dead. I am dead, too, sometimes, I think."

John brings a hand to his face and sighs again. His headache is long gone by now, thanks to the numbing of the alcohol, but he still feels this unbearable internal pain in the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry. About what I said, and about your dead Victor and everything. I don't wanna fight. I don't want you to be dead either." He says, "I don't know, I'm just fucked up. Everything hurts."

"You don't know who I was with him," he says quietly, "Whoever I was, I died when he was in my arms. You know, it's not like in TV shows. He was suffering. I watched him suffer and I held him there. I didn't say a word. He got away, whoever shot him. I never captured him."

John places the empty can on the coffee table and grabs another beer. "It's not your fault, and you know he's not suffering anymore at least." He drinks some more and begins to feel a pleasant buzz among all of the emotion and pain.

"You're not going to believe me, I know you won't, but you're a great man. You were there for him when he needed you most. You didn't need to say anything I don't think. Just being there was enough. Best thing you can do for a fallen soldier is just be there in their final moments. I learned that." He says softly.

Sherlock stiffens, placing the skull on the coffee table before pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms around his knees,  
"He's not anything now. He's dead. I just stared at him, baffled. I thought of what I would do when he died, but I just, I was just staring, I was begging him to live but he was vomiting blood and I was sobbing," he moans, pressing his face into his knees and shivering from the effort of not crying. John senses that he should do something in this moment. He's still not sure what, but it has to be something. He pushed himself up from his chair, leaving behind his beer, and shuffles over to where Sherlock sits. By then he doesn't know exactly what he's supposed to do so he just stands there, eclipsing the light from the lamp and serving as some sort of wall between the Sherlock and the rest of the flat. His eyes look tired and worn out but he's still alert. Taking in a deep breath, he rests a hand in Sherlock's hair. Sherlock glances up, his eyes red before he releases his arms, adjusts his legs and moves to his feet. Wrapping his arms around John's shoulders, he buries his face into his throat and whines, trying not to cry pathetically though it's all he really wants.

Startled at first, by the sudden very human reaction, John eventually wraps his own arms around Sherlock and just holds him there. He doesn't say anything, there is nothing to say, but at some point he begins to whisper soft "shhhh''s into his hair. He keeps a firm hold on the shaking man in his arms, hoping if he hugs him tight enough, the tremors will cease. They don't, and that's okay. Sherlock pulls him tighter, beginning to weep into his throat, his breath quick sharp gasps before he pulls back after what seemed like ages. His sclera is red, his cheeks stained. He hadn't wept like this for years, some part of him is humiliated, but he knows he is safe with John.

Still, he mutters, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." John says, suddenly able to find his voice.  
"It's okay." He assures him. John wipes away tears from Sherlock's face and something inside him shouts 'Too intimate!' 'Timing, John!' but it doesn't stop him from pecking Sherlock's hairline. If you'd ask him he'd probably blame it on the drinks but really he had been wanting to do such an action all night. Sherlock tucks his face against John's chest, breathing slowly.

"He used to kiss me there to wake me," he says quietly, pulling John's body closer, adjusting an arm under his to be more comfortable.  
"Well, sometimes he would kiss me a bit lower," he chuckles in a low voice before leaning back to look into John's eyes, still shaking slightly, like he was on the edge of something. "Do you love me?"

John doesn't want to say it, he knows what it will lead it. He knows how idiotic and pathetic and cliche it is, falling in love with his flatmate, his partner, his best friend. He doesn't want to loose Sherlock, that is his biggest fear. He doesn't want to feel the same aching feelings that Sherlock feels for Victor. He doesn't want to be asked some day 'Who was your first love?' and to answer with 'Sherlock Holmes. He's gone now.' But he knows, deep inside, that it will be just what he says. There is no point in denying it now, anyway. If John was going to go down this road, he might as well start now.

"Yes."

Sherlock swallows and leans forward to kiss John's mouth softly, his fingers entangling into his hair as he pulls back, his breath heavy. The kiss is simple and quick but it sends an pulse of electricity through John's veins.

"I love you too," he says quietly, clearing his throat.

John shuts his eyes and exhales before cupping Sherlock's cheeks and kissing him again, deeper this time, more passionate. He's lost his words again, but he finds that actions might just speak louder. Sherlock moans against his lips, pulling back from John,

"I'm tired. I need to sleep. Will you stay with me, please?" he says, his voice a low rumble.

John nods, perhaps a bit more enthusiastically then necessary.

"Yes." He says, mentally storing away that one noise Sherlock made previously.  
"Always." He adds.

Sherlock kisses his lips softly before disentangling himself and laughing,  
"Thank you," he mutters, pulling opened his top as he makes his way toward his bedroom. John follows him, like he always does, just a step behind. His "simple" mind, as Sherlock once called it, is still trying to piece together everything that's happened in the past 12 hours. Was it all even real? Perhaps this is just some wildly elaborate dream he's having. That would explain the foggy feeling he has. Or maybe that's just from the drinks. Or maybe that's just from the kisses.

Sherlock wriggles out of his top and grins as he steps into the bedroom, slightly drunken as he swaggers around the bed. Pulling opened his belt, he glances at John,  
"Do feel free to steal some of my clothes to kip in."

"Nah," John shakes his head. "I'm fine jus' in my pants."  
He quickly rids himself of his shirt and tosses it over in an unknown location of Sherlock's room. He struggles to pull his trousers off and may or may not have fallen over in the process. He makes his way over to the bedside, dog tags jingling around his neck, and finally crawls between the sheets. They smell of Sherlock. Sherlock crawls over the bed, placing his hand on John's chest, over the dogtags.

"These are hot," he says, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "I like them," he says, moving to rest his head on John's good shoulder.

John's blood rushes to his face and his groin upon hearing Sherlock's drunken slur and upon feeling his hand on his own bare chest.

"Wear them everywhere I go. Don' feel safe without 'em."

Sherlock kisses his jaw. "They're sexy," he mutters, snuggling into his throat, "Goodnight."

John thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of Sherlock's warm breath against his neck. It might have just turned him on. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock one more time before kissing him goodnight.

"G'night Sh'lock" He mumbled, suddenly feeling far too tired to correctly pronounce his name. Sherlock hums quietly to himself, easily falling into a dreamless sleep next to John.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sherlock wakes, he is rather startled.

"John?" he says, sprawled over the other man.

John mutters something along the lines of "What, Sherlock?" and "Where the fuck am I?"

He rolls his head in the direction of Sherlock's voice and tries to will himself to open his eyes. "Ya?"

Sherlock furrows his brow, straddling John,

"We didn't have sex, did we?" He says.

John squints, trying his damnedest to remember.

"Don't think so." After a moment he adds, "Should've"

Sherlock cocks his head. "Should we have? I don't see why we've slept together," He rubs his head, leaning over to pick up his phone before without climbing off of John.

He hums at the date, "Oh, I see."

John groans at the sudden coldness he feels without Sherlock's body heat.

"Don' go." He mutters, still half asleep.

Sherlock returns to John. "It appears we began a relationship whilst drunk," He grins, kissing John's jaw.

"Don't go." John repeats, this time in a different context. 'Don't say it was a drunken stupor', he means. 'I've waited too long for this.' He winds his arms around Sherlock's waist and hums pleasantly at the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his face. The younger pulls John close, humming quietly.

"I'm not going anywhere. I never would have done anything sober."

John's eyes finally focus on Sherlock's face and he thanks the gods that he gets to wake up to such a beautiful one.

"I love you." He says, and then he pauses. "Things are going to be different now, you know."

Sherlock smiles. "I love you too, why?" He raises a brow, pressing his nose against John's.

The other shrugs, and for a moment, his eyes seem distant.

"Might be harder now. Especially with what we do. There are a lot of people who want you to suffer. I'll be a target more often." That isn't the part he really cares about though. What he's worried about is Sherlock thinking he can protect John by ending "this", (This, being what ever they are now to each other) because that is stupid and John could easily protect himself before and god dammit he really doesn't want to live with out 'this'. Sherlock nods, pulling away, grinding his teeth,

"You're absolutely correct," he says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face.

John moves to follow him. He sits in back Sherlock and holds him from behind, hid head bowed and his brows furrowed.

"John, please," he says, moving away.

"I can't do this again," He swallows hard, moving to his feet and swallowing.

"No." John practically whispers. "No, don't. Don't do this." He reaches a hand to Sherlock.

"I'll be fine, we'll be fine. We've done it all before. We can take it." He's almost pleading with him now. "Please."

Sherlock moves forward to kiss John slowly, moving his body over John's before pulling away.

"We can tell no one. I couldn't survive that again."

"No one has to know." John nods, before leaning in to kiss Sherlock again. He holds him tight like he's afraid someone will take him away.

"Just stay." He says, relief washing over him once more.

Sherlock exhales against him, kissing him slowly, his fingers running through his short coarse hair. John moans in appreciation and willingly accepts every kiss made.

"I love you, I can't leave." Sherlock says.

John's hands begin to wander towards his arse. He groans as he feels John's hands, panting against his lips slightly.

"Frisky." He chuckles.

John happily gropes Sherlock's arse and grins in response. "Can you blame me when I've got a gorgeous work of art like yourself in a bed with me?" He leaves a few wet kisses on Sherlock's neck.

"Like that, do ya?"

Sherlock grins to himself, grinding down against John slightly. The friction sends John into complete bliss as he moans a bit louder and eagerly bucks up.

"I suppose it's all right." Sherlock mumbles before running his nails across John's forearm. He grins, kissing John's throat.

"I think I have half a mind to fuck you against the mattress right now," He purrs, straddling John's hips.

"Oh fuck yes." John groans. Still clothed in only his pants, it's quite obvious by the tent in them exactly how happy he is to hear those words.

Sherlock grins to himself, climbing off of John to sway toward his dresser.

"Have you ever been fucked before, dear? Or would you prefer to fuck me?"

John shakes his head. "Never fucked a bloke or been fucked by one. Think I'd like to be shown the ropes first before I fuck you over ever available surface in the flat." He smirks, eyeing Sherlock's ass while he does.

Sherlock raises a brow, climbing back over John, holding a tube of lubricant and a condom.

"Condom is for protection from infection, really, I trust you're clean. I'm clean," He ruts his hips down against John. "Always, lots of lubricant, as there's no fluid produced by the anus. We won't be able to have penetrative anal sex every night. Blow jobs and hand jobs are swell as well." He says, smoothing some fluid into his palms and heating it up.

"We can just stroke each other if you'd rather go slowly."

John groans. "No, fuck slow. Fuck me now." As lovely as hand jobs and blow jobs sounded, he just really needed to be fucked right now.

"But uh..." A bit of anxiety washed over him, "Try to be uhm..gentle...at first." Then he narrowed his eyes. "And do you really think I didn't know that an ass didn't produce fluid? I'm a doctor, remember?"

Sherlock grins, kissing John's mouth.

"I know you know, I'm just being clear," He says, brushing his nose against his before running a hand over his groin, pulling off of him.

"I'll fuck you dear, no need to beg. It's all right. I'll be gentle.

"Yessss." John hisses. He wraps his arms around Sherlock

Sherlock grins, pulling John's briefs over his hips and over his legs before running his tongue along John's proud prick, brushing a lubricated finger, as he'd done before, against John's puckered entrance.

"Ah, fuck!" John rocks his hips up towards that lovely mouth of his. Sherlock presses a finger inside of John, using a hand to lift his leg to part his hips further, his eyes on John's to gauge his reaction.

He makes a sharp gasp and his back arches. His playful smirk practically slapped right off his face and replaced with shock. John's cheeks burn with a bright red blush.

"Oh"

Sherlock hums, kissing along John's shaft.

"Have you never done this to yourself, love?" He asks, slowly moving his hand.

"N-never thought I'd be fucked." He stutters. "Didn't seem necessary."

Sherlock kisses sweetly at his head, slowly stroking his cock.

"If this feels even vaguely uncomfortable, I should stop."

"No no, it's good." John sighs, body beginning to relax. "Trust me, it's really good." His fingers tangle into Sherlock's curly locks and he smiles to assure him of it.

Sherlock hums and smiles, gingerly prodding at John to pry a second finger inside of him, slowly moving it inside.

"That might be a bit uncomfortable, but it shouldn't hurt."

John grips Sherlock's hair a bit tighter and a small huff escapes his lips.

"It's fine. Keep going."

Sherlock leans up to adjust him into his mouth and suck him slowly as he presses his fingers deep inside of John, all the way to his knuckle before slowly fingering his tight hole. He can feel himself leaking in his pants with want to fuck him. John's breathing becomes ragged and his heart beat speeds up.

"God Sherlock." A bead of sweat forms of his brow. He tilts his head back, lips parted, face flushed. "Oh fuck."

Sherlock scissors his fingers before adding a third and pulling up off of John, having merely been sucking him, not giving a proper blowie. John lets out a disappointed whine when his mouth leaves his prick, and Sherlock smirks, adjusting his body.

"Here, do you want to touch me? Get familiar what's about to be in your arse?"

John quickly becomes eager to touch. He reaches down and cups Sherlock through his pants, groping slowly but thoroughly, eyes searching his face for a reaction.

Sherlock hums to himself as he watches his fingers move inside of John's arse.

"Oh, you're so tight. I suppose you would be, virgin as you are. God, fucking you will be so lovely, dear."

John wasn't sure if it was even possible to grow harder at this point, but Sherlock's words might've just done that. He hooks two fingers into Sherlock's waist band and pulls down his pants, revealing his very much desirous cock. John wraps a hand around it and starts to pump.

"To be honest, before a day or two ago, I was positive you were a virgin. Guess the tables are turned now- AH!" His eyes went wide and his back arched again.

"Holy fuck, do that again!"

Sherlock grins charmingly, "That would be your prostate, love," He says, kissing his belly as he thrusts his hand in deeper.

"I could finger you until you come. That might be fun." He winks, bending over to lick along his cock. "Fuck you afterward, or we can wait."

John nods, still a bit shocked.

"Yeah, let's do that."

Sherlock chuckles, rolling his hips into John's touch as he continues fingering his arse.

"God, it's bloody lovely, you know, so soft and pliable. Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?"

"Oh god. Holy shit-" He covers his mouth with one hand, wanking Sherlock off with the other. Why hadn't he done this himself before? He was teetering over the edge, just moments away. Sherlock leans over to take John's head into his lips as he sucks diligently, fucking John a bit faster with his hand as he slowly sucks along the aching cock. John bit hard into his hand, whining low in the throat before gasping and coming on Sherlock's lips and face. He let his mind drift aimlessly for a moment before coming back to reality and letting out a deep breath.

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock buries his fingers deep inside of him, licking his lips and grinning widely.

"Good, sweetheart?" He cocks his head.

John tilts his head up to peek at Sherlock. At the sight of his flat mate licking his own cum off his face, he has to lie back down and mutter a long string of profanities.

Sherlock grins wider, removing his hand with a small lewd pop. He reaches over to grab a tissue to wipe his fingers clean before opening the condom.

"Are you sure you want me inside of you?"

John nods. "Yeah. If it feels anything like that, definitely." He says, already feeling the fire in the pit of his stomach flare up again.

"I want you to fuck me."

"It's okay if you don't get hard again, you just came, I don't expect you to, plus, some blokes can't be hard while being fucked." Sherlock explains as he pours some lube onto himself and rolls the condom over, then applies more lubricant. "It may not feel as good as it could, because you've already come."

John looks up at Sherlock.

"C'mere" He says, reaching for him.

Sherlock leans forward toward John, pressing his forehead against the other man's as he slowly presses the head of his aching cock inside of the man, a deep rumble in the back of his throat surfacing at his lips. John winces slightly, it's definitely more then the fingers, but it doesn't exactly hurt. His breathing picks up again and he kisses Sherlock before lying back down on the mattress.

"Ravish me Mr. Holmes." He says with a grin.

Sherlock braces himself over John, pressing slowly inside of him as his breathing picks up.

"Oh, your arse feels so sweet," He growls, thrusting his hips once, twice. "Oh, fuck, you beautiful thing."

John's fingers and toes curl and he grips the bed sheets tight.

"Oh god, this is good." He soon finds himself feeling rather giddy, then he's chuckling. "Why the hell haven't we done this before?"

Sherlock smiles into his cheek, rocking his hips slowly, his breathing heavy.

"I have no idea, love, but we should do it over and over again." He moans, thrusting his cock deeper inside of John's body before removing it again, fucking him with all of his length.

"Shit, I'd love to pound your arse all night, you minx."

"Heh, such a dirty mouth you have. I thought you were more of a gentlemen then tha- FUCK." John cried out, pushing back against Sherlock's length. Hungry for more.

"Sh-Sherlock, harder. More!"

Sherlock lifts up his thigh as he leans back and thrusts harder inside of John, his breath heavy, mouth wide.

"Oh fuck, am I fucking your prostate, sweetheart?"

John writhed under him. "Holy shit. St-stop fucking calling me that. You have no idea what it does-" He trailed off as he saw stars before his eyes.

"Yes! Right there! Oh fuck, oh shit! Sherlock!" He braced himself against the bed and practically screamed like some bloody animal.

He thrusts faster, his breath heavy as he grinds his teeth, grunting heavily as he fucks John.

"Oh fuck." He growls, closing his eyes as he feels himself jerk.

"I'm going to come, sweetheart -Fuck!" He snarls, and quickly thereafter helplessly ejaculates.

John grabs hold of Sherlock and rakes claw marks along his back. He groans as Sherlock spasms above him. "Fuck-!" He growls, as his own orgasm shakes him. When he's done and spent his arms fall limply at his sides and he shuts his eyes for just a moment. Sherlock remains inside of John, his breath heavy as he kisses his throat.

"There you are, beautiful."

John's breathing is heavy and he fumbles to find something of Sherlock's to touch. In this case, it's the back of his neck. His fingertips draw lazy circles over his skin while he tries to regain his senses. He means to say something meaningful, but in that time all he can come up with is:

"No, you."

Sherlock giggles into his throat before resting beside him.

"We should sleep for the rest of the day. Sleeping, eating, and fucking, please."

It's a good plan, John thinks. It's an excellent plan actually, just like all of Sherlock's plans.

John mumbles, "Amazing, brilliant, fantastic." before he dozes off. Sherlock smiles and kisses his hair before following thereafter.


End file.
